


laughter and tears of yesterdays

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don’t copy to another site, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Pre-Canon, but compliant enough with canon to make everything sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:16:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21705091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: Frank remembered asking Bertrand, just prior to the mission, if he was okay with Frank and Beatrice going on a mission together pretending to be a couple at a party. Frank had known the two of them were close, and he had an inkling of suspicion - just suspicion, he never really asked - that Bertrand might have more interest in Beatrice than what he’d shown on the surface. Bertrand had said of course he was okay, and had looked bemused that Frank had asked such a question.“You don’t mind? You’re not jealous?” Frank remembered asking him at that time.And then Bertrand had tilted his head, and gave Frank one of his particular brand of ambiguous smile, “Of whom?”
Relationships: Beatrice Baudelaire/Bertrand Baudelaire, Frank Denouement/Beatrice Baudelaire, Frank Denouement/Beatrice Baudelaire/Bertrand Baudelaire, Frank Denouement/Bertrand Baudelaire
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	laughter and tears of yesterdays

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE

The thing was, Bertrand had found himself becoming quite fond of Frank.

It’s a gradual thing, really. Started out as a small, almost ignorable feeling. Certain moments that made him smile or made him feel warm inside, small things that made his heart flutter just slightly. Nothing huge. Feelings he’d assumed would fizzle away soon enough, once he got used to it.

He didn’t quite expect it to intensify, which made him feel slightly off balance, because he liked to be able to predict himself. But one day he found himself liking more and more little things about Frank, like the way he handled different hotel guests problems as they came, like the way he greeted the guests approaching front desk with cool, professional, unfathomable expression, but had a wry and amused smile reserved for his friends. Like his efficiency in handling paperwork and his clear handwriting. Like the way he rolled his eyes when Dewey was being dramatic. Like how he would still be willing to make a cup of tea for Bertrand even when being visibly annoyed at something Bertrand had done. 

And the constant disapproval and occasional admonishments at how Bertrand should stop reading in odd positions and dim lighting that were bad for his eyes, it had gone from feeling like nagging at first to - while, Bertrand wouldn’t say he was _fond_ of it, but he was used to it by now, and despite being annoyed at times, other times it felt nice to know someone cared.

It’s a gradual thing, really. Started out as a small, but then when he realized it, he was in deeper than he’d ever imagined himself to be.

He wasn’t sure what to do about it, but then again, he decided that maybe he didn’t need to do anything about it. They were already friends, they already spent quite a lot of time together, and it wasn’t like he had any huge desire to make sure Frank know of this. He was quite fine staying like this, he decided, just being fond of Frank and spending time together.

The safest plan was always inaction and keep things the same.

* * *

Beatrice didn’t exactly wanted to say she was surprised by what she saw when she pushed open the door into Frank’s office, but at the same time, she kind of was. Kind of. Somewhat. Slightly.

Just _slightly_ , she thought to herself.

Bertrand and Frank were sitting on the large sofa in the office, Frank sitting cross-legged on one side of the sofa, holding the book he’s reading in a way such that the back of one of his palms was pressed against his knee, and the back of the other palm was placed on top of Bertrand’s stretched out leg. Bertrand was leaning against a cushion at the armrest of the other end of the sofa, his left leg folded with knee pointing upwards, his right leg stretched out long onto Frank’s lap, as he wrote in his commonplace book.

Beatrice looked at the two of them, raising an eyebrow in surprise. She knew Bertrand had the tendency to not sit properly - although he once said he thought he probably made through his apprenticeship without his chaperone noticing that - either bouncing his legs or folding them up onto the chair or some other way, but she knew he preferred to keep to his own space when not sitting properly. Well, at least, she _thought_ she knew. 

Which was why she was surprised he’s sitting like this, one leg casually inserted in between Frank’s lap and the book he was reading. For a moment, she wondered how it would feel like if she was Frank’s place, and why he always seemed more reserved with her. She wondered if it was because she was a lady.

On the other hand, it perhaps equally took her by surprise that _Frank_ would let anyone placed a leg across his lap like that. Sure, Beatrice thought that if she did it, he would only make some half-hearted protest in admonishment before rolling his eyes fondly and giving in. At least, that’s what she imagined. She hadn’t actually tried that yet. She didn’t think _anyone_ had tried that yet.

And _yet_ -

So she was mistaken, it was not a big deal, anyway. She couldn’t exactly articulate why she cared at all, in the first place.

Bertrand looked up at her, while simultaneously slowly stretching his previously folded towards himself left leg out also. Frank caught it in midair easily, while nodding at Beatrice.

“Hi, Beatrice,” Bertrand greeted her, a lopsided smile on his face, looking utterly relaxed.

Without any reasonable explanation she could think of, her heart suddenly skipped a beat.

* * *

“Can I do your hair?” Beatrice asked enthusiastically, and Bertrand found himself saying yes before he actually considered the possible outcomes of agreeing.

She was wearing down his walls these days, he felt. While when they’d first met, he’d found her too dramatic and too chaotic, but somehow he’d warmed up to her after getting to know her. She was thoughtful and considerate underneath the dramatic persona, and actually more careful than her adventurous tendencies would lead people to believe.

And also, it was hard not to warm up to her constant bright smiles that could probably charm anybody. He was quite surprised that even Frank had taken a liking to her. Frank, who was stern about keeping the hotel in order. Frank, who was constantly telling Beatrice that no, she and Olaf were not allowed to do whatever new experiment they came up with this week in the hotel lobby.

Frank, who eventually ended up letting them do half of those experiments anyway. Frank, who seemed to actually trust Beatrice, despite never actually explicitly saying so. Frank, who actually seemed to let Beatrice get away with testing all those hotel rules Frank had come up with.

And - it wasn’t that Bertrand wanted to mess around and break all those rules, of course. But it was the way Beatrice seemed to be able to charm someone like _Frank_.

If Bertrand was absolutely honest to himself, he was a little jealous.

* * *

They were all on the roof of the hotel for a potluck held on Jacques and Kit’s birthday. People were chatting with each other and tasting different foods. Esme had been criticizing other people’s dishes for being not ‘in’ enough earlier, but now she and Kit had both disappeared underneath one of the tables. Beatrice and Olaf were arguing nearby, and she appeared to be winning the argument as she pointed out, in detail, of how he had been wrong. Gustav was walking around taking pictures, Ernest by his side, the two of them often leaning in close together to examine the photos just taken. Lemony and Josephine and Jacques and Dewey were having some kind of grammar debate. Sally and Georgina were exchanging small talk about one of Sally and Gustav’s films that had been filmed at the hotel. (Ever since Ernest and Gustav had become a thing, there had been an increase of Sebald films filmed at the hotel.)

Frank and Bertrand were not far from Beatrice and Olaf, watching as Beatrice without hesitation told Olaf how he’d been wrong in amusement.

“I do admire people who just speak their mind like that, so … direct,” Bertrand said, a smile playing on his lips as he cast an unfathomable glance at Frank. “I mean, I’m not really capable of that myself, usually, but I admire people who could.”

That was one of Beatrice’s traits, Frank knew. While he liked Beatrice and also admired certain parts of her, he wouldn’t say he was particularly impressed with how she could speak her mind.

Frank wasn’t sure why Bertrand was looking at him in a somewhat odd, almost sly way, like he was trying to say something else, or maybe he wanted to ask something but he wasn’t going to say it out loud. Did he expect Frank to agree - wait, Frank came to a halt, suddenly wondering if Bertrand thought _he_ liked Beatrice. It wasn’t impossible.

Frank frowned, somewhat annoyed at not being able to figure him out, and asked plainly, “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Bertrand’s lips pulled up ever so slightly, accompanied with a quick sigh that disappeared soon enough and he smiled again, a fond smile that Frank would only interpret as amusement, and said, “It’s safe to assume so most of the time, maybe.”

Frank narrowed his eyes at this cryptic non-answer, and huffed, “I’m going to get another glass of juice.”

If he had turned back for a moment as he strode towards the table with drinks, he would’ve perhaps see Bertrand looking at him walking away with the same expression that Bertrand had given Beatrice sometimes that had made Frank suspected that he was interested in Beatrice. 

* * *

Beatrice and Frank were on a mission together, at party mixed with associates and adversaries and people in between the spectrum of that, tailing an important politician who they’d seen meeting up with Esme Squalor several times.

Frank hadn’t been in the field for a while as he’d been busy running a hotel, but he had missed field work and interesting missions, and after offhandedly mentioning it to Beatrice one time, she had somehow got him the opportunity to go on this tailing the politician mission with her.

They’d agreed beforehand that they would disguise as an innocuous, definitely did not have any hidden agenda couple attending the party. She was wearing a wig with light brown curls, and him one with black ponytail. She was also wearing a pair of glasses with large frames. She turned to grin at him, and he was suddenly struck by how cute she was.

Well, he’d always known she was cute, and quite attractive. But mostly he’d thought of her as somewhat cute and generally attractive in an abstract way. Like he’d known this as a common knowledge of sorts, like he’d known this because it’s just a fact that everyone knew, that’s all. But now she’s looking at him, eyes shining with the excitement of being on a mission and at a party, looking at him behind those large frames of her glasses, and giving him a smile that’s reassuring and mischievous at the same time. How did anyone even manage to pull that combination off, he had no idea. And he’s looking back at her, giving her a wry smirk of his own just to match, and he was just struck by how cute she looked, this woman who he’d known for ages.

“Let’s dance,” she suggested, and all he could do was nod.

She led the steps as they danced, and he realized he didn’t mind her leading, as she seemed obviously quite skilled at this, and he was curious to see where all of this would lead to. (For a moment - just a tiny moment - he forgot he was on a mission.) She guided him around the dance floor, subtly dancing around the politician they’re tailing but keeping enough distance.

“Dip me,” she said at the end of one song, and he dutifully obeyed. For a moment, he wanted to kiss her.

He didn’t, and pulled her back up instead as the band started another song.

She grinned at him.

And he’d always known she was attractive, in an abstract sense, in a vague way, as a common knowledge everyone had kind of thing, but now, he was looking at her grin and all he could think was, _wow, she really is pretty_.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, and he blinked twice, surprised, wondering if he’d misheard.

“Uh, of course,” he said hurriedly. “Got to keep up with the disguise.”

He didn’t catch the flash of disappointment in her eyes as she tiptoed forwards and placed a kiss on his lips.

He felt slightly disoriented, as if it was all a dream.

Then her lips left, and she smiled at him again, and he smiled back, or so he thought. They started dancing again, he considered going on tailing missions with fake dating disguises more often in the future. No wonder people always wanted to go on these missions, now he understood.

They continued dancing, and he suddenly remembered asking Bertrand, just prior to the mission, if he was okay with Frank and Beatrice going on a mission together pretending to be a couple at a party. Frank had known the two of them were close, and he had an inkling of suspicion - just suspicion, he never really asked - that Bertrand might have more interest in Beatrice than what he’d shown on the surface. Bertrand had said of course he was okay, and had looked bemused that Frank had asked such a question.

“You don’t mind? You’re not jealous?” Frank remembered asking him at that time. He had wanted to make sure, because they were friends, and he didn’t want to do anything Bertrand wouldn’t be comfortable with, as much as he wanted to go on a tailing mission like this.

And then Bertrand had tilted his head, and gave Frank one of his particular brand of ambiguous smile, “Of whom?” And then laughed, loud and bright, reassuring Frank that he’s completely fine with whatever their mission required them to do.

Frank wasn’t sure why he was suddenly remembering that now, and he wasn’t sure what conclusions he should come to either, as if there were some very obvious puzzle pieces in front of him, but he couldn’t see how they could all fit in together.

“Target moving towards the stairs to upper floor,” Beatrice said, and Frank’s attention snapped back to the party and the mission immediately.

“We should follow,” he said.

She nodded, eyes intense and focused, and said, “If we get caught, push me against the wall and kiss me.”

To show her that he was professional enough to handle this mission perfectly, he immediately agreed.

They weren’t caught, which he was proud to say, because that meant they were quite good at their jobs. He didn’t have any kind of disappointment about not having the chance to kiss her against the wall, not at all, not even a little bit. At least that was what he told himself.

After the mission, Jacques and Kit kept giving him odd glances for a whole week but refused to explain themselves.

* * *

And then three weeks later, they went on a similar mission of sorts.

This time, Frank felt himself to be smoother. They were more in sync with their movements, more natural as they danced together, taking turns leading and easily speeding up or slowing down as songs of different rhythms were played.

Beatrice told jokes and he laughed at them. It felt nice, to play this role, to be in this disguise, to pretend to be a different person, casual and carefree and laughing at her jokes all night.

They kissed again, more easily, more in sync, because they were good spies good at playing their roles.

So maybe they kissed again in the dark corridors where no one was looking, but good spies understood that practice makes perfect, right?

* * *

Bertrand distanced himself a bit when Frank came back from the mission.

It wasn’t a huge, immediately noticeable change. At first Frank didn’t realize it, at first he explained the first few oddities and tight smiles and the way Bertrand stopped doing things like placing his legs naturally onto Frank’s when they sat on the sofa with maybe Bertrand was just stressed out about his research project, or just feeling a little tired from working too much.

At first it hadn’t been that big of a deal.

It wasn’t like Bertrand had disappeared, after all. He was still around, although he wouldn’t easily lean against Frank like the way he used to or anything. He still showed up at the hotel and they still talked and Bertrand still smiled the way he used to, if slightly more formal, the difference almost imperceptible. Frank was also busy with catching up with hotel things he’d missed when he’d been on mission, so he didn’t pay much attention to it.

But then, one day Bertrand suddenly drew his hand back sharply when Frank reached out, before realizing what he was doing and face falling immediately and awkwardly let his hand fell to the side, every almost unnoticeable changes for the past week suddenly surfaced back to Frank’s mind.

Frank wondered how he hadn’t realized earlier.

He also figured out immediately that this probably, almost definitely, had something to do with the missions with Beatrice. He sighed to himself, thinking that Bertrand had probably downplayed how much he liked Beatrice and how he had probably pretended not to mind when Frank and Beatrice had pretended to be a couple on their mission.

Frank sighed, “You like Beatrice, right?”

Bertrand hesitated, and gave Frank a weird look, like that wasn’t what he’d been expecting Frank to ask at all. “ _Everyone_ likes Beatrice,” Bertrand finally said, his tone carefully, deliberately neutral.

“Yeah,” Frank said, a little impatient. “But you _like her_ like her, right?”

Bertrand smiled, though the smile looked somewhat odd, “probably not as much as you like her.”

“Look,” Frank sighed again, exasperated. “Beatrice and I - we were on a mission, is all. Do I like her? Yeah, she’s cool, and cute, and quite clever, but if _you’re_ interested, I wouldn’t mind - there are a lot of things I would do for y-”

“Hypothetically,” Bertrand interrupted. “Say I were jealous, like you’re trying to imply. Maybe, unlike what you’re trying to say, you’re _not_ the one I’m jealous of. Or at least, not the one I’m _most_ jealous of.” He forced a smile, stiff yet bright, it almost hurt a little to look at. “ _Hypothetically._ ”

Frank stared at him, gobsmacked. Clues of different jigsaw pieces were falling into place in his head but he wasn’t sure if the full picture he was looking at - figuratively - was actually real.

Bertrand exhaled. “I should go.”

“Don’t,” Frank said sharply.

Bertrand looked at him, like he’s desperately wanting to be anyway but here, but also like he was annoyed at himself for somehow still drawn to Frank’s sharp tone in such circumstances.

“You like _me_ ,” Frank said slowly, like he was still surprised at this realization.

Bertrand looked down at the floor and shrugged a bit. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same,” he said, not denying what Frank just said.

Frank paused, and thought that he needed to tread carefully here. “I quite like you also.”

“You don’t have to say that just because you feel like you need to -”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry, that’s more of _your_ style than mine.”

The previous awkwardness suddenly evaporated, and Bertrand smiled wryly, almost too fond. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Can’t argue with that.”

“Look,” Frank began again, feeling surer this time that the awkwardness was gone, “I do like you. I hadn’t thought about, like, being more than friends, before. But now that I have,” he shrugged. “I’m not opposed to the idea.”

Bertrand’s shoulders relaxed a bit.

“You mentioned also something about, not the _most_ jealous of, though,” Frank said thoughtfully.

“Uh, feel free to ignore that, that was just -”

“No need to be embarrassed, as we’ve already established, everyone likes Beatrice,” Frank pointed out.

Bertrand blinked, taken aback at the way Frank decided to point this out so directly. He smiled wryly again. “I really don’t know why I keep getting surprised at you doing this, when I’ve always known.”

Realization dawned on Frank’s face, “Oh my god, were you trying to compliment me at Jacques and Kit’s birthday potluck?”

Bertrand’s lips quirked up, “Thanks for noticing,” he drawled.

Frank smacked him lightly on the arm, and Bertrand laughed.

“You want to go talk to Beatrice together?”

The laughter disappeared as quickly as it came. “I - I think I’ve reached my daily dose of unpredictable outcome conversations for one day. Or a whole week. Actually, maybe a month. I don’t even know how she feels -”

“She thinks you’re somewhat mysterious but also cute at the same time,” Frank interrupted. “And she apparently enjoys kissing me. Well, at least that’s what she told Jacques who told Dewey.”

Bertrand stared at Frank, and then leant forward to bury his face against Frank’s shoulders. “Some of Dewey’s comments to me recently are starting to make sense,” he muttered.

Frank found himself smiling. “So,” he asked again, “do you want to go talk to Beatrice together?”

“If you’ll do most of the talking?”

Frank looked at him, and then shrugged easily. “Well, anything for you, I guess.”

* * *

It all worked out, eventually, and Bertrand thought he was grateful that Beatrice was one to make bold and adventurous choices, and Frank was one to speak his mind.

“To us!” Beatrice declared excitedly, raising a glass of champagne.

“I think I _really_ played an important role here,” Dewey said smugly to anyone who would listen.

“I can’t believe you told me not to interfere and then you turned around to pass the information along to Dewey knowing full well he would tell Frank,” Kit glared at Jacques. “Hypocrite.”

“Wasn’t Jacques just doing so in order to get the information Dewey collected on that millionaire in exchange?” Ernest asked. “By the way, movie plot right there, don’t you agree?” He turned to Gustav.

“Nah, too mainstream for my taste,” Gustav said, and Ernest laughed and kissed him.

“Jerome’s _not_ a millionaire,” Jacques argued.

“That was just a figure of speech, Snicket,” Ernest rolled his eyes.

Beatrice beamed at Jacques. “To thank you for your help, I have self appointed a mission to get you Mr. Squalor!”

* * *

For a while, everything between them was easy and fun.

They spent time in Frank’s office together, handling various paperwork, or just reading together. Sometimes they went to see Beatrice’s plays. Sometimes they visited the Hinterlands together, particularly the lion training place up there. They also watched Gustav’s new movies in the underwater library along with Gustav and Ernest and Dewey, and sometimes Jacques or Kit.

For a while, things were perfect.

* * *

Perhaps they should’ve known it wouldn’t last forever.

* * *

The opera night happened, the schism worsened, Ernest switched sides and broke up with Gustav, Gregor developed Medusoid Mycelium, and Beatrice and Bertrand were sent on a mission to a faraway island to coordinate with him from there, but Frank had to stay in The City to manage the hotel.

It was supposed to be just a mission for a couple of months, and they had promised each other things would be the same when they came back to The City.

Except it wasn’t.

* * *

Several months later, Frank found himself reading the postcard sent from the island that Beatrice was pregnant. The ocean scenery on the postcard looked endlessly blue, which was, coincidentally, how he felt as he was stuck at the hotel reading the card. There was a “wish you were here” written on the picture of the ocean.

He wished he was there, too.

They had a child together now, and Frank really wanted to say he wasn’t jealous, but he couldn’t even lie to himself to say he wasn’t. And it would’ve probably made things less painful it they hadn’t mentioned wanting to leave VFD to protect the child.

Logically, it made sense. It’s what’s best, what’s safest for the kid. _Their_ kid, Frank thought. Family first, he had always been able to understand that. He had always understood that all too well.

_Family first._

That was the reason Beatrice and Bertrand wanted to leave.

_Family first._

That was also, coincidentally, the reason Frank had to stay. How ironic.

He had no other choice. No other choice if he wanted to keep his _own_ family safe. He and Ernest, they were both stuck in their roles, neither of them daring to break this fragile balance. Dewey was stuck too, in a different way, but perhaps more so, if they were to discuss the subject of “being stuck” literally.

(On the other hand, maybe confined to a hotel and the underwater library underground wasn’t that much of a difference from being confined to only the underwater library. But still, Frank wouldn’t allow himself to complain when Dewey was probably having a harder time than him.)

Maybe the three of them could have tried to make it work, if they hadn’t wanted to cut off VFD as much as they could to keep the kid safe, if he hadn’t had to stay right where he was, in order to keep himself and his brothers safe.

“It’s for the best,” he said, when they had finally come back to The City from the faraway island. Beatrice looked very, very pregnant. “It’s what makes sense, it’s the only logical solution.”

 _Family first_.

Bertrand wanted to try to make it work somehow, and Beatrice implored him to reconsider his stance on VFD.

“Bea,” he said tiredly. “I understand you need to protect the baby, but I need to protect my brothers, too. Surely you can understand that. I think it’s best if we - part on peaceful - part on good terms, and perhaps if the schism successfully end one day, then we can - then we can see what we want to do then. But until then, we all need to do what we need to do to protect who we need to protect.”

He could see how much she hated that fact, but also how much she recognized it to be the inevitable truth. She didn’t say anything, but reached out a hand to grab onto his, squeezing it firmly. He let her. And then he turned to Bertrand, and tried to summon a smile for him. Frank wasn’t sure if he managed, but Bertrand probably realized his efforts, as Frank saw him blinking furiously trying to keep tears back.

“Take care of her,” he said, and then smiled. He thought he did, anyway.

“Frank -”

“And the baby, too.”

“I - I will,” his voice was choked. “I’m sorry.”

“And don’t read while lying on bed,” Frank added, ignoring the apology, trying to keep his voice light and very aware he was failing. “Don’t let the kid do so either. Oi, are you _listening_ to me?”

“Yes,” Bertrand sniffed. “And noted. I’ll keep that in mind.” Bertrand tried to smile back at Frank, and to his credit, he actually managed, despite still looking like he was about to cry. Considering how good Bertrand had always been at conjuring a smile despite what he was actually feeling, Frank supposed this wasn’t really surprising. 

“Good,” he said, and leant forwards to kiss Bertrand one last time. The kiss tasted salty, but Frank tried not to dwell on that much.

He turned back to Beatrice again, who sighed. “I _would_ lean forwards to you and kiss _you_ , except I’m not as agile as I used to be, recently, so I’m afraid you’ll have to do the work.”

He chuckled, despite himself. “No worries,” he said, and kissed her too. “Stay safe,” he muttered against her lips.

“You too,” she said as she kissed him. “And - I know this would be hard - but try to keep the hotel decorations as good as the ones I had organized.”

He rolled his eyes to subtly stop the tears from falling. “Well, we’ll try,” he told her, hoping his voice sounded dry.

Then he escorted them out of the hotel one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr](https://beatricebidelaire.tumblr.com)


End file.
